


quiet intimacies

by Friendly_Gayberhood_SpiderMan (orphan_account)



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, First Kiss, Love Confessions, M/M, Sharing Clothes, alcohol use, oblivious marius
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:33:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23759158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Friendly_Gayberhood_SpiderMan
Summary: Three times Courfeyrac wore Marius' clothes and one time Marius wore Courfeyrac's.
Relationships: Courfeyrac/Marius Pontmercy
Comments: 8
Kudos: 31





	quiet intimacies

_ 1 _

Marius nearly walks into a wall when he sees it.

Okay, maybe nearly is the wrong word. Marius  _ does _ walk into the wall, and probably ends up with half a dozen bruises as a result. But, in his defense, it’s not his fault.

“Are you alright?” Courfeyrac calls from the couch, sounding concerned. It’s completely unfair, given the fact that he’s the reason for Marius’ unfortunate collision.

Marius would never have been distracted enough to walk into a wall if not for Courfeyrac. Courfeyrac, who is sitting with his laptop balanced precariously on his knees, tongue poking out a bit in concentration as he types, and  _ wearing Marius’ sweater _ .

It’s a rather bland looking sweater, one that Marius had picked up on sale a while ago, but Courfeyrac manages to wear it better than Marius ever could. The deep blue color nicely complements Courfeyrac’s dark brown skin, and the few frayed threads somehow look purposeful rather than shabby. It’s slightly big for Courfeyrac and he’s rolled up the sleeves to his wrists, presumably so they don’t get in the way of his typing.

Courfeyrac gives Marius a worried look and Marius realizes that he’d never actually answered Courfeyrac’s question. He stands up, rubbing his arm and manages to say, “I’m fine.” He’s pretty proud of himself for managing to string together a coherent sentence, so of course he immediately ruins it by spluttering, “I- You’re- sweater.” He closes his mouth and inwardly groans. He doesn’t understand why something so simple as Courfeyrac wearing his sweater making his brain freeze up, but it seems he’s determined to make a fool of himself regardless.

“Oh yeah,” Courfeyrac says, looking down at the sweater as if he’d forgotten that he was wearing it, “I was cold and all of my sweaters are in the wash. This was close by,” he pauses for a second before adding, “I’m sorry, I should have asked.”

“No!” Marius winces and lowers his volume, “I mean, it’s fine. You never need to ask.” He walks over to the couch and sits down next to Courfeyrac, who resumes his typing. Marius is surprised that Courfeyrac can even use that laptop considering the number of stickers he has plastered on it. Marius recognizes some of them, like the trans flag one at the corner of the screen and the Parks and Rec one covering a few keys (Courfeyrac had insisted Marius watch the entire series with him), but others are completely unfamiliar. Marius spends a few seconds examining one that resembles a red carnation before eventually deciding that it must be a reference to one of the Broadway musicals that Courfeyrac is always singing along to.

Courfeyrac curses under his breath, furiously hitting the backspace button. He’s looking at his computer screen like he can incinerate it through the sheer force of his glare. Marius lays a hand on Courfeyrac’s arm. “What’s up?” He asks quietly.

“It’s this paper,” Courfeyrac sighs, “We have to write an argumentative essay about the electoral college and it’s probably the easiest assignment I’ve gotten all year. But I just can’t figure out how to phrase one of my points and it’s killing me.”

“When’s it due?” Marius removes his hand from Courfeyrac’s arm; the action is more difficult than it should be.

“In two weeks.” Courfeyrac groans and slumps down on the couch, his laptop wobbles violently but somehow doesn’t fall.

Marius tries to think of what to say. He’s never been particularly good at cheering people up, but Courfeyrac is his best friend and Marius hates to see him unhappy for any reason. “That’s plenty of time,” he says at last, knowing that the words probably won’t help much. He casts about for ideas, wondering what he could do to distract Courfeyrac. What would Courfeyrac do if their situations were reversed? He’d probably make some joke about Marius being too hardworking and then cajole him into a- “dance party!” 

Marius blushes at how loud the words come out, but Courfeyrac is smiling now, so he supposes the slight embarrassment is worth it.

“That is an absolutely wonderful idea,” Courfeyrac says. He lays his laptop down on the couch and stands up, extending a hand to Marius.

Marius takes it and gets up, stumbling as he does. Courfeyrac uses his free arm to steady Marius, wrapping it around his waist. Marius flails even more at the feeling and Courfeyrac tightens his grip. And then they’re very, very close, practically entangled in each other. Marius stops breathing; all he can think about is how Courfeyrac is wearing Marius’ sweater, and how their lips are only a few centimeters apart, and how those two facts seem connected somehow.

All at once, Marius comes back to himself. He jerks away, nearly losing his balance again as he does. “Music,” he gasps, feeling the blood rush to his cheeks, “We need music.” He searches his pockets for his phone before remembering that he’d left it in the kitchen.

When Marius looks up again, Courfeyrac has a strange look on his face. Less than a second later, it’s replaced with a smile and Marius dismisses it from his mind. “Not necessarily, my friend,” Courfeyrac says, “We’ll simply imagine the music.”

“Oh,” Marius replies, unsure of what else to say, “What song should we picture?”

“What else except a waltz,” Courfeyrac sounds so enthusiastic that Marius decides not to bring up his own complete incompetence at any sort of classical dance, “I can hear the orchestra playing now, a rather fast paced song. Very lively. Now, would Monsieur Pontmercy do me the honor of a dance?” Courfeyrac does a ridiculously deep bow before straightening up and holding out a hand.

“Of course.” Marius takes Courfeyrac’s hand, trying not to think about what had happened only a few minutes ago when they were in this same position. Courfeyrac puts his hand on Marius’ waist, the touch seems to sear through Marius’ clothing, right to his skin.

Courfeyrac starts humming under his breath as they move. He was right about the song he’s picturing being fast. It’s all Marius can do to keep up and avoid stepping on Courfeyrac’s feet. “One-two-three, one-two-three,” Courfeyrac sings as the dance progresses, “And now a twirl.” He lets go of the hand on Marius’ waist. Marius attempts the twirl but just ends up bumping into Courfeyrac, jolting both of them out of the rhythm of the waltz.

Courfeyrac throws his head back and laughs, the sound is one of the most beautiful things that Marius has ever heard. Marius laughs along, too happy at Courfeyrac’s joy to feel even the slightest embarrassment.

“Thank you,” Courfeyrac says, after they’ve both stopped laughing. He has a smile on his face, so wide and honest that it makes Marius’ heart beat a little faster in his chest.

“You're welcome,” Marius says, watching Courfeyrac settle back down on the couch and pick up his laptop. It sounds strained, and Courfeyrac gives Marius a questioning look. Marius just smiles in response and goes to the kitchen to retrieve his phone.

And that night, if Marius dreams of a boy in a blue sweater with a smile like sunshine and a talent for dancing, well, he never remembers his dreams anyways.

  
  


_ 2 _

Courfeyrac is cold, and not doing a very good job of hiding it.

They’re on their way to a bakery on campus. Éponine works there, and if caught in a good mood, she can be persuaded to slip them a few free muffins. It’s not a long walk, but the temperature is somewhere in the negatives and Courfeyrac, for some inexplicable reason, is wearing nothing but a thin coat.

Courfeyrac fails to suppress another violent shiver and Marius decides that enough is enough. He unwinds his scarf, wincing as the chill hits the back of his neck, and steps up to Courfeyrac, carefully looping it around his neck. Marius only fully realizes what he’s doing when he hears Courfeyrac let out a hiss of surprise.

Marius quickly steps back, looking anywhere but at Courfeyrac. “You looked cold,” he says, rubbing a gloved hand over the back of his, now icy, neck. He takes a few steps forward, hoping the continuation of their walk would help dispel the weird tension that has suddenly settled in the air between them.

It seems to work. After a beat of silence, Courfeyrac exclaims, “thanks,” and launches into some complicated story about how he and Bossuet had managed to get kicked out of a lecture due to a series of increasingly unbelievable events.

Marius steals glances at Courfeyrac as they walk. The scarf that Marius had loaned him isn’t very nice, it’s a garish yellow color and lumpy in places, the result of a high school knitting class that Marius had barely managed to pass. But it’s warm, which is the only reason Marius still wears it. And on Courfeyrac, it somehow doesn’t look that terrible.

From the scarf, Marius’ eyes travel up Courfeyrac’s body. His hair is dyed a light pink this month, and the wind has swept some curls out of the small ponytail that Courfeyrac had spent so long on this morning. Strands of hair fall over his face with every step; Marius finds himself longing to put them back into place. 

Courfeyrac beams as he tells his story and his eyes seem to sparkle in mirth. Marius wonders what it would be like to feel Courfeyrac’s smile with his own lips. He quickly pushes the thought out of his mind and averts his eyes; he tells himself that it’s simply the cold doing strange things to his mind and increases his pace.

“-Bossuet managed to get the ostrich out, but the professor told us to leave anyways,” Courfeyrac completes his story just as they reach the bakery. A cheery sign hanging above the door greets them, Marius recognizes the lettering as Éponine’s work, and the inside is lit with a soft, golden light that makes it look all the more inviting.

Marius quickly opens the door and steps into the bakery, eager to get out of the cold; Courfeyrac follows a step behind. There aren’t many people there, few were probably willing to brave the subzero temperatures, and the people who are present don’t seem to notice Marius and Courfeyrac entering. They sit at a table on the side, near one of the large windows.

Marius hunts around in his pockets, managing to find a crumpled five dollar bill and a handful of change. “I’ll order,” he says, standing up and walking over to the counter before Courfeyrac can protest.

As soon as Marius reaches the counter, he spots a familiar face. Éponine looks exhausted, but a smile appears on her face as soon as she recognizes Marius. “Hey,” he greets her, “How’s it going?”

“Not great. I was up all night studying,” Éponine says, a yawn cuts off her last word, “I considered not showing up for my shift, but I need the money.”

Marius hums in commiseration. He can’t count the number of times that he’s shown up to one of his jobs sick or severely sleep deprived simply because he couldn’t afford not to. Of course, that was still infinitely better than accepting even a cent from his grandfather.

“Oh well,” Éponine shrugs, “I guess I’m here now. What can I get you.”

Marius considers what a little over five dollars can buy him before deciding on, “two cookies, one sugar and one chocolate chip, and two small hot chocolates.”   
  


“Two, huh?” Éponine asks as she puts the cookies in a bag. Marius sees her slip in a few lemon bars that he knows for a fact he didn’t order.

“Yeah,” Marius gestures over to the table where Courfeyrac is sitting, staring at something on his phone, “I’m here with Courf.” Marius sees Courfeyrac let out a laugh at whatever he’s looking at, Marius imagines he can hear it from all the way across the bakery.

When Marius looks back at Éponine she has that smirk on her face that means she’s noticed something interesting. “So,” she says, dragging out the word, “I see that Courfeyrac has a new scarf.” She turns around to prepare the hot chocolate, Marius is glad that she can’t see whatever expression is on his face. Of course Éponine would notice, of course.

“It’s not like- it’s- he was cold,” Marius finally manages to say. Éponine turns back around, smiling at Marius’ less than comprehensive explanation. Marius just ducks her head and hands her the money.

“Well have fun you two,” Éponine says as she gives Marius the food. She gives Marius a significant look that he pretends not to understand.

“Thanks,” Marius mumbles and heads back to the table. Even though he can’t hear it, he knows that Éponine is laughing at him.

Courfeyrac lays down his phone as soon as Marius reaches the table. He immediately takes a long sip from his hot chocolate, even though it must be scorching hot. A second later, he puts the cup down, grinning at Marius. There’s a smear of whipped cream at the corner of his lips and Marius has to stop himself from leaning over and wiping it off.

“Ooh chocolate chip,” Courfeyrac says as he digs into the bag, “My favorite.” He takes a bite of it and smiles, closing his eyes for a second as if he wants to savor the taste. Marius watches him as he nibbles on his own cookie, a strange fluttering in his chest.

They talk for a bit before falling into an amiable silence. Marius feels a buzzing in his pocket and looks down to check his phone. It’s just some unimportant text, and Marius swipes the notification away. When he looks up, he sees Courfeyrac staring out the window, an unreadable expression on his face. 

Before Marius can even begin to think of what to say, Courfeyrac speaks, “It’s snowing.”

Marius looks out the window and sure enough, snow is starting to drift down from the sky, not much, but there nonetheless. Marius looks back at Courfeyrac, he has a barely-there small on his face and is fidgeting with Marius’ scarf, twisting and untwisting the yarn around his fingers. Before he knows what he’s doing, Marius is reaching across the table, laying his hands over Courfeyrac’s and gently bringing them down to the table. He entwines their fingers together, a little shocked at how cold Courfeyrac’s are.

Courfeyrac turns his gaze on Marius, seeming to search his face for something. Marius finds himself frozen under Courfeyrac’s eyes, not daring to even breathe. Finally, Courfeyrac nods and directs his attention back to the window. 

Perhaps Marius should say something, but he doesn’t. And neither does Courfeyrac. Instead, they just sit there, hands joined, as snowflakes continue to fall outside, covering the world in white.

  
  


_ 3 _

“You’re staring,” Grantaire informs him.

Marius jolts in surprise. He’d assumed Grantaire was asleep, which was why he’d migrated over to this table. Today is just one of those days where he’d rather not get involved in any conversations. 

“I’m not staring,” Marius says, tearing his eyes away from Courfeyrac, “I’m just- just-”

“Just?” Grantaire prompts.

Marius blushes, refusing to meet Grantaire’s eyes. Okay, maybe he had been staring, but he has a good reason. Courfeyrac is wearing one of Marius’ shirts. He’d put it on accidentally before they left, and neither of them had noticed until they’d already arrived at the Corinth. Courfeyrac had just shrugged and dismissed it, making a joke about Marius not being the only one with his head in the clouds, but Marius hadn’t been able to let it go so easily, hence the staring.

Courfeyrac wears the shirt well. It’s one of Marius’ fancier ones, light green with gold flowers embroidered on the hem. He doesn’t wear it often, but Marius wonders if it smells like him anyways. He wonders if Courfeyrac would like it if it did. He knows that’s a rather weird thing to think, but that knowledge doesn’t stop him from wondering.

“-can give you some advice,” Grantaire’s voice tears Marius out of his reverie. He looks back at Grantaire, (his eyes had drifted to Courfeyrac again when he wasn’t paying attention), and notes the smirk on his face. “I’m something of an expert in unrequited love,” Grantaire continues, “Although in your case, it may not be so unrequited.”

Marius doesn’t hear the last part, his mind had frozen at the words ‘unrequited love.’ He blinks furiously at Grantaire, finally managing to say, “I’m not in love. I mean, I’m- I’m over Cosette.” And that  _ is _ the truth. After many bowls of ice cream and an exorbitant number of cheesy rom-coms, Marius had managed to completely move on from his and Cosette’s breakup. And stay close friends with her to boot.

Grantaire lets out a long suffering sigh, which isn’t fair, since he’s the one being completely cryptic, and says, “I’m not talking about Cosette.” He emphasizes each word, as if trying to ingrain them in Marius’ mind.

“Then who-” Marius cuts himself off as Grantaire picks up one of the bottles strewn about the table, using it to gesture at where Marius knows Courfeyrac is talking with Combeferre. “That’s ridiculous,” he says, resolutely staring at the table, “I’m not in love with Courfeyrac.”

Grantaire mutters something that Marius can’t catch, although the tone sounds disbelieving. Marius lifts his gaze from the table and grabs one of the bottles, maybe alcohol will help make this conversation feel less awkward.

An hour and countless drinks later, Marius is still sitting with Grantaire. At some point, he’d started talking, sharing more with Grantaire than he’d probably usually be comfortable with, but he feels warm and unconcerned, and can’t find any reason to stop.

“-and it’s not that I’m bothered by Courf wearing my clothes. It just makes me feel weird. But like. Good weird.” Marius frowns when over half of the words come out slurred. He takes another drink, wondering if his thoughts are normally this fuzzy.

“Alright Pontmercy,” Grantaire says, “I think you’ve had enough.” He makes to grab Marius’ bottle out of his hand, but Marus is quicker. He holds the bottle above his head, leaning back to stay out of Grantaire’s reach. The chair moves with him and the next thing Marius knows, he’s toppling backwards, arms flailing as he tries to regain some semblance of balance. Before Marius can hit the ground, someone comes up behind him and steadies the chair, saving him from what would have been a very nasty fall.

Marius whirls around to face his hero, ready to bestow his most ardent gratitude on them. However, upon catching sight of the person in question, he immediately forgets what he was about to say.

“Courf!” Marius yells and jumps up, wrapping his arms around Courfeyrac.

“That’s my name,” Courfeyrac says, sounding amused. Marius doesn’t get what’s funny, but he laughs anyways. He feels on top of the world right now, nothing could bring him down.

Courfeyrac lets Marius hug him for a few more seconds before pulling away. “Are you drunk?” He asks. Marius barely hears the question, too focused on Courfeyrac’s hair. It looks so soft, he wonders if it feels the same way. It probably does. Courfeyrac’s hair is probably perfect and fantastic, just like everything else about him.

“I’ll take that as a yes then,” Courfeyrac chuckles and Marius realizes that he’d said that last bit out loud.

“I-” Marius says, before closing his mouth, unsure what exactly he wants to say. His mind is getting cloudier every second and he’s not entirely certain of what’s happening.

“Okay, let’s get you home,” Courfeyrac wraps an arm around Marius. It feels nice, and helps ground Marius’ thoughts. He nods and says goodbye to Grantaire, who looks like he may be unconscious. Courfeyrac gently leads Marius out of the Corinth, making farewells for the both of them.

As soon as they exit the building, a rush of cold air hits Marius. It manages to clear his mind enough to process what’s happening, but not enough to be able to walk unassisted. He hums a tune under his breath as they walk, not really sure where he remembers it from. Overhead, the stars are faint, but still visible. They dot the sky, running after each other and dancing in their constellations. Marius stares up, marvelling at how far away they seem. The sound of glass breaking drifts over from somewhere, followed by the sound of laughter. Marius takes it all in, not sure what he’s feeling. Here, on this night, everything seems big and small at the same time.

Marius stumbles over his own feet and Courfeyrac keeps him from falling. Marius looks over at Courfeyrac, illuminated by the dim light of the streetlamps. His hair is tousled and his jacket is half unzipped and he looks absolutely beautiful. And this too is something that feels simultaneously very complex and very simple.

“Come on,” Courfeyrac says, nudging Marius, who realizes that he’s stopped moving. With no small amount of effort, he forces himself to start walking again, leaning into Courfeyrac with every step.

The rest of the walk home is silent. Marius can feel something crackling between them, ready to spark into a flame at a word, a glance, a movement. He deliberates on doing something about it, weighing the pros and cons in his mind. But he takes too long, and they reach the apartment before Marius can come to a decision.

Courfeyrac unlocks the door and they step inside their apartment. Marius kicks off his shoes and heads towards the couch, ready to collapse onto it. He feels exhausted and wants nothing more than to sleep for as long as possible.

“Oh no you don’t,” Courfeyrac grabs Marius’ arm, stopping him from moving any further, “Your back will never forgive you if you sleep on the couch.”

“I hate you,” Marius whines as Courfeyrac drags him towards the bedroom.

“You’ll reconsider those words tomorrow. At which point I fully expect you to cook me an apology breakfast. Actually you’ll probably sleep through breakfast, so maybe lunch or dinner.”

Marius barely hears Courfeyrac’s last statement as he catches sight of his bed. He rushes towards it, almost tripping over his feet, and lays down. Courfeyrac laughs and lifts the blankets, spreading them over Marius. He starts to move away, but Marius grabs his arm.

“Stay?” Marius yawns as he asks the question, but his grip on Courfeyrac’s arm doesn’t loosen.

Courfeyrac gasps. A second passes before he replies, “Okay.” Marius nods and closes his eyes, letting his hand fall. He thinks that Courfeyrac might say something else, but he’s too far gone to understand it.

The next day, Marius wakes up with a splitting headache. He groans and sits up in bed, swearing to himself that he’ll never drink again. The lights are thankfully off, and the blinds are slightly cracked open, letting in only enough sunlight to see by. He glances at the bedside table, finding an aspirin, a glass of water, and a note in Courfeyrac’s handwriting. Seeing everything, realizing that Courfeyrac had done all of it for  _ him _ , makes Marius ridiculously happy.

For the first time, Marius finally understands.  _ Oh no,  _ he thinks, gripping Courfeyrac’s note tight enough to tear it,  _ Grantaire was right _ .

After everything that’s happened, Marius can no longer deny the truth. He’s in love with Courfeyrac.

  
  


_ +1 _

If Courfeyrac notices any change in Marius’ behavior, he doesn’t mention it. Something for which Marius is eternally grateful.

Marius is… Marius is  _ dealing  _ with his revelation. By which he means that he’s completely avoiding it while simultaneously drowning his feelings in terrible soap operas.

Things would be easier if Courfeyrac showed any hint of reciprocating Marius’ feelings, but Courfeyrac acts the same way he always does towards Marius, joking and teasing and flirting. The flirting especially hurts now, since Marius knows that none of it is real, no matter how much he may want it to be.

Marius sighs and pauses his show. He hasn’t been paying attention for the last hour, but he’s pretty sure a character just faked their death. He checks the time on his phone and curses, turning off his laptop and jumping up off the couch. He needs to be ready five minutes ago.

As Marius roots around in the closet, he grows increasingly more despairing. He has an interview for the position of German TA, but he can’t find his suit. He  _ needs _ this job; one of his current jobs cut wages, and there’s no way Marius can keep up with his expenses if he doesn’t get another one. 

Another minute passes and Marius can’t breathe. If he can’t find his suit, then he has no chance of even being considered for the position. Of course this would happen to him. Of course. He looks around desperately, searching for a lifeline. Anything would be welcome right now. 

Marus catches sight of a dark green suit, hanging at the back of the closet. It’s Courfeyrac’s, and nothing like Marius would usually wear, but he doesn’t have any other options. Courfeyrac will understand, he knows how important getting this job is to Marius.

Marius quickly getting changed into the suit, barely sparing himself a glance in the mirror. It’s a little ill fitting, too short and tight in some places, but hopefully no one will notice. His phone buzzes as he leaves the apartment. He checks it to see a text from the dry cleaner’s, informing him that his suit will be ready to pick up in an hour. Marius facepalms, suddenly remembering the fact that he’d spilled some coffee on the suit a few days ago and had dropped it off to get cleaned. His timing in that, as in all things, had been terrible. He really does have the worst luck.

As Marius makes his way to the foreign language building, he notices people pointing and staring. One girl giggles to her friend as he passes them. He frowns and walks faster. This sort of thing happens rather often, as if people can tell that Marius is both miserably poor and something of a human disaster. He tries to ignore them, keeping his eyes fixed on the ground until he’s reached the German wing of the building.

Marius scans the room numbers; 24598, 24599, 24600. There, room 24601. Marius knocks on the door, wondering if the entire building can hear how loud his heart is beating. A few seconds later, a soft voice calls out, “Come in.” Marius takes a deep breath before turning the knob and entering the room.

The interview goes surprisingly well. Marius manages not to embarrass himself too badly during it, and he thinks he has a solid chance of getting the job. He rushes home, excited to tell Courfeyrac all about it.

When Marius gets back to the apartment, Courfeyrac is already there; his class must have ended early today. He’s sitting on the couch with a bowl of noodles beside him, looking at something on his laptop. He doesn’t look up right away when Marius enters, but calls out, “Hey, how did your interview-”   
  


Marius turns around at the sudden pause, yanking his key out of the lock and putting it on the table. Courfeyrac is staring at Marius, laptop forgotten and mouth slightly open.

“Courfeyrac?” Marius asks when Courfeyrac doesn’t complete his sentence.

Courfeyrac abruptly stands up, depositing his laptop on the ground before walking over to Marius, a strange look in his eyes. “You’re wearing my suit,” he says, and there’s something in his voice that Marius finds himself unable to identify.

“Yeah,” Marius takes a step forward, a step closer to Courfeyrac, “I left mine at the dry cleaner’s and it was still there by the time I needed to go. I figured you wouldn’t have a problem with me borrowing one of yours?” His voice lifts up on his last sentence, turning it into a question. At the time, he was sure that Courfeyrac would be fine with Marius borrowing his suit, but now, with the way that Courfeyrac is looking at him, Marius isn’t entirely sure of anything.

“Yeah. It’s completely fine,” Courfeyrac swallows and Marius tracks the movement with his eyes. There is something simmering here, close to exploding if Marius lets it. Marius wants to let it.

“Courfeyrac-” he says and finds himself unable to continue. 

“Yeah,” Courfeyrac takes a step forward. And now they’re practically touching. If Marius makes any movement at all, they  _ will _ be touching. He takes a deep breath and then another, aching to close the distance.

“I-” Marius tries again. He’s never been the best with words, and now they’ve seemed to fail him completely.

“You,” Courfeyrac teases, and he’s so close that Marius can feel his breath ghosting over Marius’ lips.

“Can I- can I kiss you?” The words come out as a whisper.

Courfeyrac blinks in surprise and Marius wonders for a second whether he’d messed everything up. But then Courfeyrac leans in, and  _ oh _ . The kiss is chaste, just lips touching lips, but it makes fireworks explode behind Marius’ eyes. He can feel all of their unspoken words, all of their stolen glances and not quite casual touches. And in that moment he knows. It hasn’t all been in his head, it never has.

They break apart after a few seconds, keeping their foreheads touching. Marius can see Courfeyrac’s smile and he knows he must be wearing a matching one. “I love you,” he blurts out.

Courfeyrac pulls away and gives Marius a long look. For a second Marius wonders whether he’s made things awkward and laments over the fact that Courfeyrac is never going to even look at him again, but then Courfeyrac is smiling. “Marius Pontmercy,” he says, “You are an idiot.”

Marius feels slightly offended, but then Courfeyrac is kissing him again and he forgets all thoughts of complaining.

Later, when they’ve resurfaced for air, Courfeyrac breathes out, “I love you too.” Marius doesn’t stop smiling for a week.

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from nothing, I just couldn't think of what to call this. Come scream at me about these oblivious idiots [here](https://saucy-boy.tumblr.com/).


End file.
